Wading (c2)

Marcus stared at the Crane Tower waterfall even though the mist once again shrouded the scene. He had no idea of how long he had been standing still when he realize that he was standing ankle-deep in the freezing river around him. He turned his head and scanned the road for dry spaces but the mist continued to obscure his view. Marcus turned to his right and took a few steps towards the side of the street, hoping that one of the towering buildings around him was unlocked. Inside, he would be out of the water and able to call his father once again. As he neared the Park Hotel, a massive antique of a building with heavy wooden doors, the sound of shattering glass cried out from above him. Hundreds feet of where Marcus stood, water came rushing out of the 36th floor of the hotel. Abandoning the entranceway of the hotel, Marcus ran downstream, back towards where he had come. From glimpes caught by the corners of his eyes, Marcus saw that water was now pouring out of every building on the block, turning the entire block into the Iguazu Falls of Brazil. With a wall of water at his back, Marcus pushed his way through the deepening water. Marcus hobbled around the corner, feeling the cold water lick his hears and neck. He feels a powerful punch in the small of his back that knocks the wind out of him and the world turns black.

Marcus opens his eyes and they are stung by salt water, he immediately closes them again. He is spinning, his limbs turning over eachother in unnatural positions. His lungs burn. His head bursts above the water’s foam and he gasps at the sudden supply of oxygen but he is quickly pulled under once again.

He can not decide if hours or seconds have passed, but the current of river has slowed significantly, forming a large lake in what was once a parking lot. For the first time, Marcus surfaces on his own accord, breathing deeply before attempting to get his bearings. Drifting on his back, Marcus identifies the local bank and Shaws that reside only 4 blocks from his apartment building. He didn’t know what was at his home, but atleast he knew where he was. Catching his breath, Marcus begins to swim slowly towards his home. His raises his left arm but is stopped by a sharp, stinging pain in his shoulder. He looks and sees his arm dangling unnaturally beside him. His shoulder is dislocated but there is little he can until he can reach solid ground.

Marcus paddles with steadily with his right arm to the far side of lot where water is slowly trickling out in a dozen directions. His feet scrape the asphalt beneath the water. A few more kicks and he is crawling on his knees, his face inches from the water as he doubles over in exhaustion. Minutes pass before he finds the strength to lift his torso. Resting on his knees, Marcus looks again at his twisted left arm. He’s watched enough TV to know that it’s supposed to “pop” back into place, but he has little idea as to what that actually means. Clenching his jaw shut, Marcus grabs the top of his arm and pushes it back towards his shoulder. Pain shoots through his entire arm, shoulder and neck. He lets out a shriek and releases his grip. He waits for the pain to subside and for his breathing to return to normal before trying again. This time, Marcus pushes upwards and back into his shoulder. There is an audible popping sound and the searing pain returns as the joint clicks into place.

His arm burns  and his body is tired. He focuses and slowly rises to his feet. He slowly marches forward, his mind blank with exhaustion. The ten minute walk takes thirty minutes at Marcus’s slow plod but time seems insignifcant. Had Marcus the energy to lift his head, he would have seen that his street had been left relatively unaffected by the torrent. Water still runs a few inches deep through the street, but the buildings are comparatively dry. He would have seen that all of the windows were dark.

Marcus pushes the walk-up’s door open and enters his apartment on the left. Every inch of his body is cold and wet, but the apartment is unusually warm. Head hanging, Marcus trudges upstairs and removes his wet clothes. His body is covered in scrapes and bruises, a dull pain he has been keeping in the back of his mind. He throws on sweats and collapses on his bed. Sleep comes immediately.